The Silver Stag
by Silver Dragonfire
Summary: ~Ch. 2 up~ After the defeat of Voldemort, everything seems peachy-keen. But is it really? And who is that mysterious Animagus? SLASH
1. Prologue

**Title**: The Silver Stag (May be changed later)  
  
**Author**: Shenlong [the_solitary_dragon@hotmail.com]  
  
**Archive**: Fanfiction.net, under Water Dragon, and my site, the_solitary_dragon.tripod.com.   
  
**Category**: Romance, possible angst later  
  
**Keywords**: 7th year, Harry, Silver stag  
  
**Rating**: PG (Possibility of PG-13 later, but not likely)  
  
**Spoilers**: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF  
  
**Warnings**: **SLASH**, aka male/male relationships. Nothing graphic. Overuse of the word 'think' in one paragraph.  
  
**Summary**: After the defeat of Voldemort, everything seems peachy-keen. But is it really? And who is that mysterious Animagus?  
  
**Author's Notes**: Hm. A decent story, I should say, if I've ever written one. Try to guess the pairing. It's Harry/??. Hint: It's rather obvious, if you think about it. It's NOT incest, James does NOT come back to life, and it's not Harry/Ron. Ron's dead.   
  
**Dedication/thanks**: For my beta, Ashkara. And for Jessica Chang, who told me she'd review. Schnoogles!   
  
**DISCLAIMER**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. (Disclaimer used is from Fictionalley.org and/or RestrictedSection.org. Again, no copyright or trademark infringement intended.)   
  


~*~*~*~   
  
Prologue

  
  
The moon shone bright over Hogwarts. It was poised between the time of waxing and waning, right when it's full and round as a dinner plate. The cloudless sky proved to be no barrier to the silvery rays of moonshine gently illuminating the grounds and the forest around them.   
  
It was the sort of night for lovers- a night to spend idly with the object of your affections, stargazing, or simply enjoying each other's company. In fact, in the Astronomy Tower, there were many couples doing just that- among other things.   
  
Such nights always had Harry Potter thinking of his parents. It was sort of a roundabout way of thinking, actually. On nights of the full moon (when it was visible, at least) he couldn't help but think about his old Professor Lupin. That led to thinking about Sirius, as he had moved in with Lupin after the defeat of Voldemort. And thinking about Sirius, as always, made Harry think about his parents.   
  
Perhaps he should have let go a long time ago. He had helped avenge his parents' murders, ridding the wizarding world of a malevolently Dark wizard. And, yet, there was something he could NOT let go of- he just couldn't pinpoint what it was.   
  
~*~*~   
  
On this such night, Harry happened to be particularly restless. That kind of night had never boded particularly well with Harry--last one had chanced upon him, he had nearly been caught wandering the school halls at night by Professor Snape.   
  
So, though odds of him having a peaceful, safe night were rather against him, he decided to go out wandering.   
  
And, like all such heroes, that was his undoing.   
  
~*~*~   
  
Harry raised his eyes to look at the moon. It was bright tonight, and he could almost see faint tinges of silvery-blue around the curved edges. The stars were visible in the cloudless sky, and he managed to find Sirius, the Big Dipper, and the North Star before giving up on Andromeda.   
  
He found himself wandering around the Forbidden Forest. During the war with Voldemort, he had familiarized himself with the Forest, learning escape routes and land/air tactics in a forest, as well as on flat vs. rocky ground, and in water.   
  
Now, after the defeat of Voldemort, he was drawn to the Forest on nights such as this, bright and clear. He remembered similar nights during the war, but so different. Fear had seeped through everyone's consciousness, and no one dared do anything so frivolous as take a moonlight walk with a lover, not when a Death-Eater could be behind any corner.   
  
Presently, he came to a familiar glade. In daylight, it looked like the home of faeries, with a little pond, the soft loam around carpeted with dark green moss and a few narcissi [1]. Surrounded by gently swaying willow trees, the glade was truly a magical place-and more so at night. Silvery beams filtered through the long, pliant willow branches, glancing off the pond to make it appear like molten silver.   
  
Harry stretched out on the soft moss, content to simply stare up at the dark sky. He felt more at peace there than he did while in his room, or with friends. There is something indescribable about being alone at night, in a time of peace such as this- to feel entirely at one with nature, instead of simply being an observer.   
  
The night called to him. He heard the faint chirps of crickets and hoots of owls as if from far away, and, enveloped in the night, he could not help...but to fall asleep...   
  
~*~*~   
  
A figure, dressed in black robes, moved quickly through the Hogwarts hallways. His steps were fluid and even, and he only stopped once to snarl at a pair of first years staying out past curfew. He breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the cool, autumn air outside. His walk slowed to an amble, as if he cared not who saw him.   
  
About 50 meters from the side entrance he used, the figure changed into a silver stag and bounded off into the forest.   
  
~*~*~   
  
Harry started to wake as the first traces of dawn were starting to touch the sky in the east. He could feel droplets of dew on the moss around him. There were still about two hours before his presence would be missed-if indeed anyone had gotten up early.   
  
He felt something soft nudge him in the side. Frowning, he wriggled a bit, thinking it only a figment of his imagination, but it refused to go away. Harry blearily opened his eyes, only to look into the eyes of a magnificent silver stag.   
  
~*~*~   
  
To be continued...   
  
~*~*~*~   
  
Please, tell me how I'm doing. Tell me if I'm making any grammar mistakes, any canon mistakes, or anything. I'm looking to better my writing—so tell me what I'm doing wrong. Email me at the_solitary_dragon@hotmail.com or hit that handy review button if there is one. Please? (Note that I don't bother rewriting the HTML scripts differently for Fanficion.net, Soupficion.net, or my site, listed above.)   
  
**Footnotes**: The current title may be identified as an altered version of a chapter title in C. S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. According to my memory, the chapter title is "The White Stag", not the "The Silver Stag". It is also a reference to the Prisoner of Azkaban. As you recall, Harry's Patronus comes out of his wand in the form of a silver stag.   
  
[1] Some may recognize 'narcissi' as the source of Narcissa Malfoy's name. For those of you who don't know, Narcissus was the name of a young man in ancient Greco-Roman mythology. He fell in love with his reflection in a pool of water, and eventually was turned into the first narcissus flower, the plural of which, I believe, is narcissi. Please correct me if I'm wrong. I have heard that the narcissus is a daffodil; others have told me it was a lily. I know not right now; if you know, would you tell me?  
  



	2. Chapter 1

**Title**: The Silver Stag (May be changed later)  
  
**Author**: Shenlong [the_solitary_dragon@hotmail.com]  
  
**Archive**: Fanfiction.net, under Water Dragon, and my site, the_solitary_dragon.tripod.com.   
  
**Category**: Romance, possible angst later  
  
**Keywords**: 7th year, Harry, Silver stag  
  
**Rating**: PG (Possibility of PG-13 later, but not likely)  
  
**Spoilers**: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF  
  
**Warnings**: **SLASH**, aka male/male relationships. Nothing graphic. Continual use of "The Stag", Harry talks to animals. A bit of angst.  
  
**Summary**: After the defeat of Voldemort, everything seems peachy-keen. But is it really? And who is that mysterious Animagus?  
  
**Author's Notes**: 1600 odd words. Not too bad, I suppose. I'm used to writing 2000 and up, but it was the perfect place to stop! Really!  
  
**Thanks/Dedication**: To Ashkara, my beta, and to beautifulelf, for reviewing! Thank you! *huggles*  
  
**DISCLAIMER**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. (Disclaimer used is from Fictionalley.org and/or RestrictedSection.org. Again, no copyright or trademark infringement intended.)   
  


~*~*~*~   
  
Chapter 1

  
  
Draco Malfoy was an enigma. Throughout most of the war, he remained as a valuable trump card. His knowledge of the Dark Arts was extensive, but so was his knowledge of Hogwarts' physical defenses, if not magical, and secret passageways (perhaps not quite up to par with the Marauder's Map, but close), since he was a Slytherin prefect for his fifth and sixth years.   
  
Right before the Death Eaters lost an important battle (in fact, it was a matter of a few hours), he chose to serve under Dumbledore for the duration of the war. Futures historians will note that it is at this battle that Voldemort started losing the war. After the war ended, it was debated whether Draco had indeed tipped the scales in favor of the Light in refusing Voldemort and his father. When asked, Dumbledore simply smiled and offered a lemon drop.   
  
As one of Teen Witch Weekly's "The 25 Most Eligible Wizards Under 25" [1], Draco was chased after by numerous girls (and quite a few guys too). Most Hogwarts students, even Gryffindors, had at some time or another referred to Draco as the "Slytherin Sex God", though it seemed that no one knew what he was like in bed. In fact, the only interest he had shown **anyone**, past casual flirting, was when he took Pansy Parkinson to the Yule Ball in fourth year, much to the chagrin of his admirers. Many wondered at this, asking why he would not take a lover if so many were willing. Rumors had begun to circulate about a secret lover, but they were quickly squashed by Draco himself, loudly and publicly.   
  
Yes, Draco **was** an enigma. He enjoyed it. Everyone saw his façade for what it was, but no one knew, or dared to find out, what was behind it.   
  
~*~*~   
  
Harry blinked. The stag moved away, as if to give Harry a chance to admire him. His coat was a gleaming silver, only a shade or two lighter than the storm-cloud eyes. A modest, yet still glorious rack of velvety black antlers protruded from his skull. Each leg ended in an almost dainty black hoof.   
  
Harry took the chance to sit up and rub his eyes, and clean his glasses on his robes while he was at it. He stared.   
  
Yes, that **was** a big, silver stag, over yonder.   
  
~*~*~   
  
The Animagus stag cursed mentally. **What** in the world and all nine hells was Potter doing **here**, of all places?! This was **his** place! How did Potter manage to find this glade in the first place?! He could've sworn he'd warded it securely enough that most wizards were hit by a Repulsion Charm if they set foot within 50 feet of the glade, yet Potter had managed to take a **nap** in the middle.   
  
Life was so unfair.   
  
~*~*~   
  
"Hello?" Harry said softly. "Are-are you real?"   
  
The stag snorted as if to say, 'Of course! Don't I look real enough for you?'   
  
"What are you, then? You don't really look...natural."   
  
The stag glared.   
  
"I have nothing against you really," Harry said hurriedly. "But I didn't think there were silver stags running around Britain."   
  
The stag tossed his antlers. 'I'm special.'   
  
"Okay, then. Do you...would you mind being petted?"   
  
Hesitant steps forward. A small nod of acquiescence. Then, eyes closed blissfully as a pale hand stroked his flanks.   
  
"You know," Harry went on conversationally, "the last time I saw a silver stag, I was being chased by Dementors."   
  
The stag tensed for a moment.   
  
"I summoned a Patronus. But I don't suppose you would know what it is. Every wizard's Patronus is different. Mine is a silver stag."   
  
Silvery eyes opened and turned to look at Harry. 'Why?'   
  
"My father...his Animagus form was a stag. His nickname was Prongs. Then...he died."   
  
The soft nose nuzzled against Harry's cheek.   
  
Harry sighed. "I don't suppose you'd understand." He flopped down onto the mossy edge of the pond, staring into the clear water inhabited by a few fish.   
  
He felt the stag move-and suddenly, warm breath puffed against the back of his neck. A warm body loomed over him. A silky voice in his ear. "Don't tell me what I don't understand, Potter…"   
  
~*~*~   
  
"Albus…"   
  
"Yes, Minerva?"   
  
"I'm worried about Harry. You know he hasn't been the same after Voldemort fell."   
  
"Aren't we all? None of us are the same as we were. Lemon drop?"   
  
"What? Oh, yes, please-but Albus, he's really changed since that day. You-you know which one." A sob.   
  
"Minerva..." A gentle hug, as a father would give to his daughter. "He's still grieving. We're **all** still grieving. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were targets from the beginning. They knew that. They accepted it."   
  
"But Harry never accepted it. He never fully understood that his friends and family would be in danger because of him. And he was shocked. He has yet to recover, Albus."   
  
"Time will heal all wounds. Besides, I have a hunch that the all will soon be better."   
  
~*~*~   
  
Harry yelped and barely managed to keep himself from falling into the pond. "Malfoy?! What are you doing here?!"   
  
Draco smirked and moved back, much in the way the stag had. "I could ask you the same, Potter."   
  
"I-I couldn't sleep."   
  
"Really..." Draco drawled. "I couldn't either. Now, tell me why you are in my glade."   
  
"**Your** glade? This?"   
  
"Do you have a hearing problem in addition to your deficient vision? Yes, I said **my** glade."   
  
"Bugger off, Malfoy. It's not your glade any more than it's mine."   
  
"You're mistaken, Potter. Truly, I don't even know how you got in here. I thought I 'd warded it so that I was the only one who could even come near."   
  
"Perhaps I'm special."   
  
"Perhaps you are." Draco stretched out languidly on the soft moss, and a strangely comfortable silence fell.   
  
"Draco?" A hesitant query, almost shy.   
  
"It's Draco now, is it? Whatever happened to Malfoy?"   
  
Harry ignored Draco's question. "Why are you an Animagus stag?"   
  
"Why not?" came the sardonic reply.   
  
This jibe, too, was ignored. "You always seemed to be the type of person who would choose something flashier. Like a dragon, or something."   
  
Draco sighed. "Haven't you ever heard that the shape chooses the wizard? Like your wand does? Except that almost all wizards have a wand, and only a select few are Animagi. And, besides, I would have thought that Dumbledore would have taught you how already."   
  
"Well, yeah. But I've always known what I was going to be. Ever since I knew about Animagi, I knew what my form would be if I could do it. So it wasn't really any surprise." [2]   
  
Draco was silent for a moment. "You were lucky, Potter. Most wizards don't have it so easy. The shape a wizard wears has to match his qualities. McGonagall is a cat because she's so mysterious all the time, and can turn up whenever. So being a stag must fit me. And your shape has to fit you." He paused, then added, "Probably a dog, knowing you."   
  
"Bugger off, Malfoy. Why did you even bother to answer my question?"   
  
Draco shrugged. "Nothing better to do, really. I suppose, if I have to put up with you being in **my** glade, I might as well try to keep it more or less quiet. It really wouldn't do to have you whining at me, after all. It's not like it helped anyway."   
  
"I don't whine!"   
  
"Don't you? Why not, because big heroes don't whine? Stop deluding yourself, Potter."   
  
"I'm not. All I wanted to know was why you were civil to me, for once. I thought-"   
  
"You thought what? That we could've been friends? After the Weasel and Mudblood died, **now** you want to be my friend? I almost hate to tell you this, Potter, but that's not the way it works. Do you remember first year? On the train, you refused me, and chose a Weasley. Any friendship that might have happened was stopped-by you. Don't say you want something you already turned away, Potter." All of this was said in a chillingly low voice, the voice of one who does not yell as he gets angry. Instead, his voice gets soft, and silky, and indeed, he is one to fear, for he retains reason in anger, and plots revenge as one might plan a picnic.   
  
Harry opened his mouth, but found he had nothing to say. He turned, transformed into a white merlin, and took off into the sky.   
  
Draco closed his eyes. 'Stupid...bloody...Harry...Potter,' he thought furiously.   
  
~*~*~*~   
  
To be continued...   
  
~*~*~*~   
  
**Footnotes**: [1] This comes from chapter 12 of "Draco Veritas", by Cassandra Claire, used with her permission. Thanks, Cassie! *huggles* ^_^ Except it's the 10 most eligible wizards in her fic, not 25.   
  
[2] OK, my reasoning on this is that though Harry's first transfiguration lesson was BEFORE his first flying lesson, he didn't learn about Animagi until later, since McGonagall turned from a cat into herself in the movie, not the book, and I follow book canon. In the book, she turned her desk into a pig, and back. So, knowing already the exhilaration of flying, what else would Harry want to be?   
  



	3. Chapter 2

**Title**: The Silver Stag  
  
**Author**: Shenlong [the_solitary_dragon@hotmail.com]  
  
**Archive**: Fanfiction.net, under Water Dragon, and my site, the_solitary_dragon.tripod.com.   
  
**Category**: Romance, possible angst later  
  
**Keywords**: 7th year, Harry, Silver stag  
  
**Rating**: PG (Possibility of PG-13 later, but not likely)  
  
**Spoilers**: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF  
  
**Warnings**: **SLASH**, aka male/male relationships. Nothing graphic. Strange going-on's at Hogwarts. But, then again, when is there not?  
  
**Summary**: After the defeat of Voldemort, everything seems peachy-keen. But is it really? And who is that mysterious Animagus?  
  
**DISCLAIMER**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. (Disclaimer used is from Fictionalley.org and/or RestrictedSection.org. Again, no copyright or trademark infringement intended.)   
  


~*~*~*~   
  
Chapter 2

  
  
Harry flew furiously, without any concern for what time it was, though the molten sun was already peeking over the horizon. He was dimly aware that he was flying circles around Gryffindor Tower, but he didn't care--all he wanted to do was go **away**, away from Draco and those accusations. 'I didn't...I **don't** treat Draco like that...did I?'   
  
As the rest of Hogwarts started to wake, Harry wheeled repeatedly in the lightening sky.   
  
~*~*~   
  
It was almost a week before Harry saw Draco again outside of classes and meals. It seemed like Draco was avoiding him--though, why, he didn't know. He was in the glade in the Forest almost every night, sometimes as a human, sometimes perched in the willow as a merlin. He noticed that there, among the peace of the forest, he slept better than he had in his room.   
  
A chance meeting in the empty entrance hall gave Harry the opportunity to corner Draco alone. "Malfoy. We need to talk." Alright, so it wasn't the most original thing he'd ever said, but what was he supposed to say? "Don't avoid me"? "I think you're wrong, but let's talk anyway, so I can try to poke holes in your argument"? He didn't think either--or anything else he thought of, for that matter--would go over well with the blond Slytherin.   
  
Draco looked tired, and slightly annoyed at having his peace disturbed. "What, Potter? I have somewhere to get to, you know," he drawled with a hint of his old smirk.   
  
"About what you said, Malfoy." Harry paused, but couldn't think of much that would convince Malfoy that he was serious. "You're wrong." Well, blast, **that** probably wasn't it.   
  
Malfoy laughed harshly. "I'm **wrong**? About what? You being delusional? You whining? What exactly was I wrong about?"   
  
"You-you said I was trying to replace Ron and Hermione with you. I'm-I'm not."   
  
"Sure, Potter? You don't sound at all convincing to me."   
  
"Of course I'm sure!"   
  
Malfoy shook his head, in a mockingly sad way. "You're delusional, Potter. Have you thought of moving to St. Mungo's?"   
  
"Delusional?! Me?! Speak for yourself!"   
  
Draco snorted in a very un-Malfoy-like manner. "Get real, Potter. Look at you. You expect everyone to fall all over themselves just to be your friend. At least I can tell if people don't like me."   
  
"That would be most people, wouldn't it?"   
  
"Shut up, Potter. At least I have real friends, not sycophants and people who only want to be known for being the friend of the Boy Who Lived."   
  
Harry only raised an eyebrow.   
  
"Well, maybe not so much the 'real friend' part, but at least I don't have a fan club."   
  
"I wouldn't be so sure."   
  
There was a moment of silence. It wondered how long it should hang around, but quickly disappeared as Draco finally opened his mouth to speak.   
  
"What the hell is **that** supposed to mean?"   
  
"I'm not the only one on who's regularly in _Witch Weekly_."   
  
"Some people just can't resist my charms, Potter."   
  
"Who's being delusional now?"   
  
"Not me, of course."   
  
"Believe what you want. It has nothing to do with me."   
  
"Well, that's not what it sounds--" Draco broke off as the doors to the Great Hall creaked open and Dumbledore stepped out.   
  
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," he acknowledged cheerfully. "So this is where you were. Your teachers and I would like to have a word with you."   
  
'Oh, hell. What am I in trouble for now?' Draco groaned to himself as he reluctantly followed Dumbledore to his office.   
  
~*~*~   
  
Dumbledore beamed at them happily as he said his password to the stone gargoyle ("Harry London"). This did not reassure Harry at all, as he remembered how Dumbledore could be perfectly calm at the most panic-worthy times--something that makes him smile like **that** must be rather...interesting. To say the least.   
  
In Dumbledore's office, the Heads of the Houses, prefects, and Head Girl were waiting for them. There were three prefects in each House, one each from the 5th, 6th, and 7th years. Harry was one of the Gryffindor prefects, with Ginny Weasley and a 5th year named Ceren Ashke [1]. The students stood around chatting amiably, while the professors spoke quietly amongst themselves.   
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I call this meeting to order."   
  
Conversations gradually died down to murmurs, then faded away completely as everyone gave Dumbledore their complete attention.   
  
"I suppose you are all wondering why you were called here." Mutters of acquiescence traveled though the room. "In the aftermath of the war with Voldemort,"--some people flinched the name--"people are tired, listless, and have little hope, especially here at Hogwarts. The school governors have suggested a contest, of sorts, to enliven the Hogwarts population."   
  
The students and faculty stood in silence for a moment, digesting the information. Finally, a Ravenclaw spoke up. "What kind of contest?"   
  
"Originally, we were thinking of staging the Triwizard Tournament again this year, but such requires much preparation. The school governors have proposed that we create a Hogwarts-only contest, since Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were not hit as hard in the war. I believe one suggested a quiz-bowl."   
  
"What's a quiz-bowl?" Justin Finch-Fletchey asked curiously.   
  
"It is, Mr. Finch-Fletchey, an academic competition which tests the overall knowledge of the competitors," Professor Sprout answered. "Muggle schools hold such competitions all the time."   
  
"Remember, that was only a suggestion," Dumbledore cautioned. "Our objective is to engage the student body in something that does not deal with war."   
  
"What about Quidditch?" Draco asked. Harry started. He had forgotten that the blonde was standing beside him.   
  
"That, too, will help. But, as the student numbers are greatly diminished by Death Eater attacks, the games will have less competitive spirit involved in them. Everybody will be too busy remembering how this or that person would have made the game so much better to pay much attention to the remaining players."   
  
Harry agreed silently. It was never quite the same playing Quidditch after Ron and Hermione's death. Every time he looked over at the goal posts and saw Natalie McDonald guarding the hoops, he thought of Ron, who had made Keeper in their 5th year.   
  
"Wouldn't that be a problem, too, with any kind of competition?" Lisa Turpin, the Head Girl, asked. "I mean...with a quiz-bowl, in Ravenclaw, especially."   
  
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Yes. But there would also be the prospect of something new, something undone. That may outweigh the feeling of yearning for--absent friends."   
  
Silence fell upon the room once more, each student musing over the newly-presented idea.   
  
"We do not have to decide today," Professor McGonagall spoke up suddenly. "From now until Friday would be ample time to mull over these thoughts, would it not?"   
  
Dumbledore nodded to her, eyes twinkling from some secret amusement. "Of course. There will be a prefect meeting after classes on Friday, then. Hopefully, that will give everyone the chance to think things over, and perhaps come up with another idea. Motion for adjournment?"   
  
A Hufflepuff raised her hand.   
  
"Is there a second?"   
  
Ginny seconded the motion.   
  
"Very well. Meeting adjourned." [2]   
  
~*~*~   
  
It was almost midnight. The Gryffindor 7th year boys' dormitory was dark, except for a sliver of moonlight falling on Harry's beside table. Harry waited until the breathing of his roommates grew even and slow with sleep, then crept over to the window and quietly released the latch to open the window. The sky outside was a velvety blue, lit only by the stars and 3rd quarter moon.   
  
Harry took a deep breath and climbed onto the windowsill. He was too small to fit through the window as a human, so he changed into a merlin before escaping the confines of Gryffindor Tower for the open night sky.   
  
'This is becoming a bloody habit,' he thought to himself as he winged through the trees. It wasn't hard for him to find the little glade with the pond on purpose anymore, after a week of practice. He broke through the long, thin willow branches, and entered the clearing to an unfamiliar sight. The great silver stag laid on the mossy banks of the pond, as he had done a week prior, and looked with big, doleful eyes at his reflection in the water.   
  
Silently, Harry slipped back into his human body. Draco didn't notice. "Malfoy?" he asked hesitantly.   
  
~*~*~*~   
  
To be continued...   
  
~*~*~*~   
  
**Footnotes**: Eeples! Sorry for the delay! First, I wrote this other HP story (at ), then I wrote a 10-page Ch. 2, decided I didn't like it, discarded it, and wrote this one. So...*sigh* I'm sorry. *hangs head*   
  
If anyone would like to suggest something for them to do instead of an academic contest, go ahead. I'll consider it, but if no one does, I'll just go ahead with that idea.   
  
[1] Ten points to whoever can guess where the word _ashke_ is from. Hint: It's from a fantasy series, and it means 'beloved'. My disclaimer will go in the next chappie, since I don't want to give it away.   
  
[2] This is the way we do things in Key Club...when we want to get out of there, we honestly have to motion for it, and have a second. Model United Nations, too. The whole "I call this meeting to order" thing, too. I couldn't resist putting that in. Besides, I couldn't think of another way to end the thing...   
  
**Thanks go to...**   
  
sapphire-wolf, elven_girl13 [A merlin is a bird of prey, looking somewhat like an osprey, or a red-tailed hawk. Not as big as an eagle, but sizable. I had a few links to pics...but I lost them. It'd be easy to find some pics of merlins on Google.], beautifulelf, NayNymic [Um...I don't know how long I'll take to get to the 'Harry/Draco' part. The way I see it, it's not believable if they just start snogging in the hallway, or whatever. I think they need to sort of grow out of the arch-enemy-type relationship, and THEN the H/D part comes along. *sweatdrop* Sorry...] 


End file.
